


All Shall Be Well

by dryswallow



Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Guilt, Past Abuse, faith - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8298568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dryswallow/pseuds/dryswallow
Summary: Russell visits the church on a rainy day and learns what faith means to Dogma.





	

 

The white walls of the church tower above Russell as he draws near. It’s a beautiful building, despite the dark flowers and vines that have begun climbing over it. Immaculate even, thanks to Dogma’s dedicated upkeep and cleaning rituals.

As he approaches, Russell can see that the front door has been propped open. Dogma stands just inside the threshold with a broom in his hand, sweeping dirt out onto the grass. He nods solemnly in greeting.

“Hello Russell.”

“Hello,” Russell answers, quiet as always. He tends to stop by each house in the morning, checking in with everyone to find out what his dream has in store for him that. This morning, the church is his last stop. Russell is thankful for that – the sky has opened up above him and is spitting down rain, and he doesn't want to be outside much longer.

“How are you?” Russell asks.

“Well, despite the weather,” Dogma answers, frowning. “Did you forget your umbrella?”

Russell nods, though there was no umbrella for him to forget in the first place. The inside of his house is as barren and sterile as ever, aside from the pieces of paper that kept accumulating on the floor.

Dogma nods. “Happens to the best of us. Come inside where it’s dry and you can wait it out.”

Russell is about to protest, but the light rain has started to turn into a downpour and Dogma is already opening the door wider, welcoming him inside. Russell bows his head in a gesture of thanks and accepts the invitation, hurrying through the doorway and out of the rain.

On cloudy days, the inside of the church becomes thick with shadow. The stained glass windows stand tall and lightless, their colours dull without the sun to illuminate them. The only source of light is the candles that line the walls and pews. They give off a flickering orange glow that bounces around the room, but it’s not quite enough to get rid of the darkness.

Russell’s nose twitches at the smell of smoke. He ignores it. The candles are small, their flames smaller. It’s nothing to worry about.

“You can do whatever you like while you wait,” Dogma is saying. “I have some books in the back room, though I’m not sure they’ll interest you. Religious texts, mainly. I think I still have some storybooks from when Cody and I were younger…”

“I’d like to see them.”

Dogma raises his eyebrows at this, surprised but clearly pleased.

“Of course. Come along then.”

He leads Russell down the aisles and past the organ until they reach a small door near where the statue of the Goddess used to sit. Beyond the door is a hallway, and through that a room lined with so many books Russell would call it a library.

Dogma pulls a small box of matches out of his cloak and lights several candles of varying heights that decorate a desk shoved up against one wall. Self-conscious, he quickly clears a pile of papers covered in his own writing off the surface of the desk before pulling out a chair and motioning for Russell to sit down.

“Here,” he says. “Just give me a moment and I’ll find you some books.”

Now that the candles have brought light to the room, Russell can see that a framed piece of parchment has been hung on the wall above the desk. The words are written in an elaborate calligraphy, but eventually he is able to read them:

_All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well._

“Julian of Norwich,” Dogma says.

Russell starts. He glances over his shoulder to see Dogma a few steps behind him, gazing up at the parchment with a peaceful expression on his face. It’s a change from the normal Dogma, who would himself admit to being grumpy and strained much of the time.

“She’s the one who said that,” Dogma explains. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. That’s why I put it up on the wall, so I can see it while I work.”

Usually Russell is cautious and shy when talking to others. But something about being here, deep in this sanctuary with only Dogma at his side, drives him to ask.

“Can you tell me why?”

“If you’d like.”

Dogma takes a seat beside Russell. He waits a moment before he begins, planning out what he needs to say.

“Do you believe in any kind of God or Goddess, Russell?” he begins.

Russell opens his mouth, but the words catch sharply in his throat and he can’t get them out. It’s a simple question. It should be a simple question, but he can’t bring himself to answer it.

His parents never took him to church, but his mother kept a Bible in her dresser drawer and sometimes wore a golden cross around her neck. His father would yell angrily sometimes about people and things that went against God. If that was God and religion, Russell wanted no part in it. But hearing the singing in the church where he first saw Dogma and Cody made him want to believe in something.

When Russell hesitates, Dogma gives a small smile and moves on. “It doesn’t matter if you do. It may sound strange to hear me say that, but my purpose here is not conversion. It’s more about doing good work in the world we live in, which is of course the world of the Goddess’s creation.

“And those words… they make me think about the meaning of my faith, and how to live with faith in my heart.”

“Faith…” Russell repeats.

Dogma nods. “Yes. Faith and healing. The Goddess cares for this world and she will make sure it continues on, beautiful and filled with light. Anything we have done, any sins that we have committed, and guilt that we carry in our hearts because of them… I think that she would like us to focus less on begging her forgiveness and more on healing so that we can do more good in the world. She has already forgiven us. All is well, and all shall be well. That is what my faith means to me.”

As Dogma speaks, Russell can feel his heart sinking lower and lower in his body.

The world is not beautiful. The world is not filled with light. There are pockets of good sometimes, mainly hidden inside people who give you cold compresses or herbal medicine, or who let you into the back rooms at zoos.

Aside from that, it is a dirty place that stinks with sex, and blood, and booze. It is filled with crumbling apartments, and broken beer bottles, and little boys with voids in their chests where they should have grown hearts.

“Russell…?”

Russell leans forward, staring at the ground. He can’t meet Dogma’s gaze, not now. Pressure is heavy in his throat and lungs, making it difficult for him to breath. His eyes sting.

“Come here,” Dogma says softly. His arms are around Russell’s shoulders, pulling him forward into an embrace. Russell can feel his body tense, wanting to flinch away. He expects the touch of hands against him to hurt, to bruise, but this time the pain never comes. There is only softness and warmth (and hidden deep in the folds of Dogma’s cloak, the lingering smell of ash).

Dogma pats his back awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I said to upset you.”

“It wasn’t you,” Russell says. “I just. I remembered something.”

Even without being able to see it, he knows Dogma is frowning.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Dogma asks.

Russell shakes his head. He pulls away a little bit, and Dogma’s arms loosen to allow him space. But it’s warm in Dogma’s embrace – he wants to stay.

“Do you ever sing?” Russell asks instead.

Dogma looks surprised, but he nods. “I do. We sing often in church. Would you… would you like to hear something?”

Russell nods.

“Very well.”

There are a few moments of silence where all Russell can hear is their breathing and the sound of rain falling heavily against the roof above them. Then a smooth sound begins in the depths of Dogma’s chest.

He starts by humming, growing comfortable with the tune. Then his lips part and he begins to sing, something lilting and slow. It’s an expression of faith, but the words don’t matter. What matters is how the song rings in the air around them, filling the vacant spaces and making even the darkest corners of the room seem a bit less deep and empty. It resounds inside of Russell, slipping in through his ears and making a home for itself in his breast.

And when Russell closes his eyes, he hopes to see light shining out from inside of himself for the very first time.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Written after encountering the Julian of Norwich quote in writing by Patricia Westerhof. The discussion of faith, forgiveness and guilt here is indebted to her novel The Dove in Bathurst Station.
> 
> 2\. I myself am not religious and have based this on both secondhand knowledge and End Roll itself. This is not meant to be a serious commentary on or discussion of Christianity or any religion - it's about End Roll only.
> 
> 3\. If you need a soundtrack or something to imagine Dogma singing: https://soundcloud.com/brothergrass/down-to-the-river-to-pray


End file.
